She thanked him warmly, and turned away at once. As his eye followed her, he was aware that somebody else had drawn near to him from behind. This also was a girl, but of a different kind. She was well dressed, and of graceful, rounded form; a veil almost hid her face, but enough could be seen to prove that she had good looks. "That a friend of yours?" she asked abruptly, and her voice was remarkably full, clear, and sweet. Waymark answered with a negative, looking closely at her. "Then why did you give her all that money?" "How do you know what I gave her?" "I was standing just behind here, and could see." "Well?" "Nothing; only I should think you are one out of a thousand. You saved me a sovereign, too; I've watched her begging of nearly a dozen people, and I couldn't have stood it much longer." "You would have given her a sovereign?" "I meant to, if she'd failed with you." "Is she a friend of yours?" "Never saw her before to-night." "Then you must be one out of a thousand." The girl laughed merrily. "In that case," she said, "we ought to know each other, shouldn't we?" "If we began by thinking so well of each other," returned Waymark, smiling, "we should not improbably suffer a grievous disappointment before long." "Well, _you_ might. You have to take my generosity on trust, but I have proof of yours." "You're an original sort of girl," said Waymark, throwing away the end of his cigar. "Do you talk to everybody in this way?" "Pooh, of course not. I shouldn't be worth much if I couldn't suit my conversation to the man I want to make a fool of. Would you rather have me talk in the usual way? Shall I say--" "I had rather not." "Well, I knew that." "And how?" "Well, _you_ don't wear a veil, if I do." "You can read faces?" "A little, I flatter myself. Can you?" "Give me a chance of trying." She raised her veil, and he inspected her for some moments, then looked away. "Excellently well, if God did all," he observed, with a smile. "That's out of a play," she replied quickly. "I heard it a little time ago, but I forget the answer. I'd have given anything to be able to cap you! Then you'd have put me down for a clever woman, and I should have lived on the reputation henceforth and for ever. But it's all my own, indeed; I'm not afraid of crying." "_Do_ you ever cry? I can't easily imagine it." "Oh yes, sometimes," she answered, sighing, and at the same time lowering her veil again. "But you haven't read my face for me." "It's a face I'm sorry to have seen." "Why?" she asked, holding her hands clasped before her, the palms turned outwards. "I shall think of it often after tonight, and imagine it with all its freshness gone, and marks of suffering and degradation upon it." "Suffering, perhaps; degradation, no. Why should I be degraded?" "You can't help yourself. The life you have chosen brings its inevitable consequences."